


Uncharted Territory

by flaming_muse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-07
Updated: 2003-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the author ponders whether undead men ever ask for directions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncharted Territory

**Author's Note:**

> set in canon through the middle of season 7, "First Date" or so, and AU thereafter
> 
> Originally posted to my LJ on September 7, 2003.

"How the bloody hell does this thing fold up?" Spike asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xander could see Spike struggling with the roadmap. It had taken over much of the space between the vampire and the windshield and threatened to encroach upon Xander's part of the car. Admittedly, it was a small car, but Spike didn't seem to be having any luck getting the map under control.

"You opened it up. Just do whatever you did in reverse," Xander said.

"Doesn't work. It keeps getting bigger! Where did you get this buggering thing? It's probably cursed."

"An evil roadmap? Well, it is of L.A. Kind of fitting, really."

"It seems to be growing to actual size," Spike said with a growl. He fought with the map for a few more minutes before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it out of the open window.

"Hey!"

"It was starting to look hungry," Spike said. He reached out and pushed the cigarette lighter in to its on position.

Xander sighed. There was no point in telling Spike not to smoke. They'd end up having a huge argument, there could be some sort of traffic accident, and Spike would still light up his cigarette. Good thing they sold that new car smell in aerosol cans; Xander didn't want his shiny leather seats to smell like stale smoke.

Besides, he _had_ gotten the cigarette lighter installed at extra cost just for Spike, so how could he be annoyed if he used it?

"You might've waited to kill it until after we got there," Xander said. His voice wasn't sharp at all, because he wasn't annoyed. Nope, not one bit.

"Thought you knew where we were going. You've been there before."

"I know where it is in the 'hey, that's the place' sense, not so much the 'take a right on Elm and go through two traffic lights.'"

"Maybe we'll get lost and have to drive around L.A. until sunrise when we have to check into some seedy motel and find _something_ to do to keep ourselves from getting bored all day. I'm sure I can come up with one or two suggestions." Spike patted his coat pocket. "Even have a new tube of lube."

"Or maybe we'll get lost, and we won't be able to find a motel, and you'll have to curl up in the very small trunk, and I'll get carjacked at gunpoint and left for dead in some rat-infested alley."

"I like my idea better," Spike grumbled and slouched further down into his seat.

"Did you at least write down the directions Fred left on the machine?"

"Yeah. They start by saying turn around and go back to Sunnydale."

"Look, if you don't want to go to the party, why did you agree in the first place?"

"You seemed to want to go."

"Angel getting his soul fixed permanently is a big deal," Xander said. "As much as Soulboy Numero Uno annoys me, I think we should all celebrate the fact that Angelus won't be returning."

"He has better fashion sense without the soul; a permanent look of constipation caused by too much brooding and abuse of hair care products is not a good accessory."

"Yeah, but I'd rather forget the leather pants for the promise of him not going around trying to kill my friends just because he got up on the right side of the bed for a change. It's a thing. And the hair care crack about you is just too easy, so I'm not going to bother."

Spike pulled out the lighter and lit a cigarette. The first puff of smoke ghosted through the open sunroof and into the night air.

"Come on, Spike. I know you're still not big on Angel, but I've never seen you shy away from a party. Lorne promised there'd be lots to drink. We'll need it if Angel gets sloshed and starts to sing."

"I don't want anything with a poofy umbrella or neon colors."

"I'm sure there'll be some manly alcohol that strips wood faster than paint thinner and tastes worse."

"Hope they don't plan on me sharing."

Xander glanced over at the vampire slumped in the passenger seat and frowned. Something was definitely wrong beyond the annoyance of seeing Angel and his gang.

"On a brighter note, Buffy will probably be much more pleasant now that Angel doesn't have that whole moment of pure happiness problem," Xander said. He had hoped for a laugh, but Spike's lips didn't even quirk into the mildest of smiles.

Xander heard a sibilant hiss of insecurity whisper in the back of his mind.

"Is that it? Are you upset about Buffy? Now that Angel's free of the curse, there's nothing to stop her from being with him."

_Please don't let him say yes. Please don't let him say yes._

"They're welcome to each other. Maybe they'll shag each other senseless and both stay out of my hair," Spike said, and Xander released a shaky breath. The whisper quieted down slightly.

"So then what's wrong?" Xander asked.

"Nothing. Just not in the mood to watch the guest of honor bore the room to death. And he'd better not sing."

With a quick check of his rearview mirror, Xander veered off onto the soft shoulder. When the car stopped, he yanked up the parking brake and turned to his companion.

"You'd think that after so many years of practice you'd be a much better liar."

Spike's eyes flashed over to meet his.

"I don't lie to you, Xan."

"You do. You are. Something is clearly wrong, and you won't tell me what it is."

Spike sighed and flicked the butt of his cigarette out onto the gravel. The glowing embers faded to darkness before he spoke.

"I'm just being a git, love. That's all."

"Tell me why. Please," Xander asked quietly.

Spike grimaced.

"'M just tired of him getting off easy, no pun intended. I get my soul back of my own accord and get tortured and jerked around and rejected by most everyone, but Willow speaks a few words and tosses about some fairy dust and suddenly it's bloody Mardi Gras in L.A."

Xander reached out and stroked gently over Spike's thigh. He gave him an encouraging smile.

"In all fairness, we had some warning with Angel; you were a surprise. There was no time to book a caterer."

"Wouldn't've mattered. It's how things always go; he gets kisses, and I get kicked. 'M used to it. Let's just bloody get it over with," Spike said. He punched in the lighter, but Xander pulled it back to its off position.

"I'd like to say I'm sorry how things turned out, but I'm not," Xander said. "I'm not sorry we didn't trust you when you came back, because you had that trigger so we were right. I'm not sorry Buffy was nervous around you and sent you to my apartment instead of her house because then we got to spend some time together. I'm not sorry she rejected you along with the rest of us because we would never have become friends if you were at her side. And I'm definitely not sorry we became friends, because then you wouldn't have moved back in with me after that mess with the First was over and we never would have known that we could be more.

"I _am_ sorry for all of the hurt that you've felt and for what I've caused of it, but I like where we are now. I'm selfish, but I wouldn't change how we got here now that we _are_ here."

"I'm just feeling sorry for myself. It must come with the bloody soul. Should've paid more attention to His Broodiness before I got one."

Xander took one of Spike's hands and squeezed it.

"Maybe I haven't told you enough or in the right way, but I'm in awe of you, Spike."

The vampire looked up in surprise.

"In awe," Xander repeated. "Most humans would not have tried to change themselves after doing something so terrible, and you, the demon part of you, shouldn't even have _wanted_ to change. But you did, and it wasn't easy, and you won. Because you're you."

"Don't glorify me, Xander. I couldn't live as I was, with what I had done; I just did what needed doing."

"I'm not glorifying you. I'm seeing you. You didn't need to be cursed to change your ways, and you didn't go back to your old habits even after what had changed you the most - Buffy - was gone. When you did something that you couldn't forgive yourself for doing - and guilt isn't something that you should have been able to feel, anyway - you went and sought out the only solution you saw at the time to make sure you wouldn’t do it again.

"What did Angel do? He killed the wrong person and got cursed, slept with the wrong person and got uncursed, and was cursed again afterwards against his will. His demon hasn't wanted to change; he has just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even now, Willow was the one who found the spell and who cast it; he's just along for the ride. _You_ changed yourself, _all_ of you; he was just there."

Spike shrugged.

"So maybe that's why there wasn't a party. What you did was too big. How do you celebrate someone being so fundamentally amazing?" Xander asked.

Spike snorted and shook his head, but the look of astonishment in his eyes melted Xander's heart.

"You're a real poof, you know that?" Spike said after a moment.

"This from the vampire who cries during _The Lion King_?"

"At least I don't sniffle over greeting card commercials."

"I had hay fever!"

"In January?" Spike asked.

Xander just smiled and squeezed Spike's hand before letting it go.

"We good?" he asked.

"We never weren't. I'm never unhappy about you."

"I'll hold you to that when I make you get up at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning to watch cartoons with me."

"I said never unhappy _about_ you, not never unhappy _with_ you."

They smiled at each other, and Spike reached over to cup the back of Xander's neck.

"C'mere, pet," he said, and tugged Xander toward him so that he was leaning across the gearshift. When his lips were in range, Spike kissed him, soft and sweet turning to needy and passionate as it so often did.

"I think I need a drink," Xander said huskily as he pulled away to keep himself from climbing into Spike's lap.

"Then we'd better get to the party." Spike reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"What's that?"

"The directions. I printed 'em off of the internet."

"So why'd you open up the map, then?" Xander asked.

"Needed something to keep my hands busy. Have I mentioned how much I like you in that shirt?"

"No. You usually seem preoccupied with getting me out of it."

Spike grinned.

"Want to try out the back seat, love? It won't take very long."

Xander shook his head and put the car into gear.

"No way. It's too small, and I'm not that bendy."

"I bet you are," Spike purred, but he didn't protest as Xander swerved back out into traffic.

"I'm not. You're the bendy one. I bet I could push your ankles to your ears and fuck you for hours on Angel's desk."

He grinned as Spike choked at the suggestion.

"Sounds like you need a drink too," Xander said. "Don't worry; we'll be there soon."

"Still don't want any sodding umbrellas." Spike shifted in his seat to adjust his jeans.

"No umbrellas. But we might have to look around his office. Just to show a friendly interest."

Spike fumbled with the directions.

"If you take the next exit we'll get there fifteen minutes faster," he said.


End file.
